On the Run
by wicked3756
Summary: Mitch Rapp has elicited the help of small town photographer, Alicia Newel, to gather some intelligence on a suspected traitor of the government. Little did they know that things would take a giant turn for the worse, essentially sending Mitch on the run, and leaving Alicia behind with his team to figure out how to clear his name. Rated M for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

The light was filtering in through the blinds in a way that cast zebra-striped shadows over Mitch's back. His breathing was deep and even, his body still. That of course meant nothing when it came to Mitch Rapp, the man had probably been awake even before she had, never one to let his guard down. Still, this was the closest chance she would ever get, the only time she'd have even a fraction of a chance to catch the assassin off guard. There was no point in trying to be stealthy, the man's instincts would have him pinning her down before she could blink if he sensed any calculated movement.

Best to keep it casual, she thought, stretching her arms above her head and letting out a quiet mewl of content. Using the arch of her back, she carefully slid the tips of her fingers along the nightstand until she found the familiar shape of the object she was looking for. Letting the air in her lungs escape through a quiet sigh, she stilled her body and brought the back of Mitch's head into her sights. As she did so, the rise and fall of his torso faltered ever so slightly, it was now or never.

*click, click, click*

Lightning fast, Mitch was on her and ripping the camera away. A wry smirk spread across his lips as he turned the lens toward her and snapped off a few pictures.

"Dammit Mitch, I just wanted a few for my own collection," a pout stained her face, "it's not like you're even identifiable from the back."

"I could put you in touch with several high ranking officials that would speak otherwise."

She squirmed beneath Mitch as he patiently took several more pictures. Fucking torture she thought, that's what this is, his modified torture technique to piss her off as much as possible. For the moment, she couldn't do anything about it. He had straddled her faster than she thought possible, managing to somehow pin both arms to her sides, while his strong legs encased most of her midsection. She could wiggle her fingers though and that could definitely be made to her advantage.

"Say Mitch," one feather light touch somewhere on his lower leg, near the ankle if she had to guess, "how much longer are we going to be holed up in this room?"

He leaned over to gently set the camera back in its spot on the nightstand, and then leveled her with a heavy gaze, "what exactly do you have in mind?"

Mitch had arrived only a few days prior with Scott Coleman and his team, which generally meant that nothing good was going to come of their visit to the small town. He had sought her out early on, and laid out the ground work for an op that would specifically require her photography skills. They needed some leverage on a senator whom they suspected was involved in the bombing of a secret service transport vehicle. Normally, Scott's team would set up some type of surveillance and gather a wealth of information on the Senator's dealings, hoping to find the incriminating evidence necessary to justify the actions that Mitch would inevitably take. They would then plan the extraction and subsequent 'justice' that Mitch dealt out on a regular basis to the assholes who dare threaten innocent lives.

The problem was that this Senator was a virtual recluse inside his expansive mansion, and only allowed certain people in for interviews, or meetings, and on rare occasions personal calls. He seldom made trips outside, handling his professional duties as much as he could via conference calls and email. That's where she came in, photographer for the local paper, having been invited into his home to capture some 'wholesome' images of the Senator. The article he had orchestrated to be written in his honor was big on the fact that he could relate to the general populous on matters of concern, because "he was no different from them".

"Well, I just thought that we could probably have a really great breakfast in bed…" her fingers tittered their way across his ankle, wrapping around the solid limb.

A deep chuckle resonated in her ears, vibrating down her spine, to land solidly in her groin. The man had no fucking idea what he could do to her. No other man had made her ache so strongly, or need so desperately, it was like being addicted to the danger he embraced and the confidence he exuded.

"I think I know exactly what I want," his breath was hot against her collar bone, his fingers tracing down the valley between her breasts, dipping into her navel, and stopping just above her apex, "what would you like to order?"

Mitch indulging in a little theatrical foreplay was the most panty dropping event she'd ever been in attendance of. Gone was the cold, hard assassin that knocked on her door at six in the morning to matter-of-factly inform her that her services would be requested at the Senator's mansion, and that Scott's team would set her up with all the necessary equipment. This is the Mitch that she could get used to being around, the Mitch that would have her second guessing all her hard-built walls and steadfast rules of engagement. Yes, this Mitch could have his way with her any day of the week and twice on Sunday.

"You, Mitch," her eyes were dark and a little unfocused, "screw the foreplay, I need you again. Right. Now."

He wasted absolutely no time in wrapping his arms under and around her, and encouraging her to flip their positions. He settled beneath her weight, slowly sliding his calloused hands along her thighs, then up over her hips and waist, to stop just below her breasts in a blatant attempt to frustrate her. She wouldn't let it bother her this morning, two could play at the game of torture Mitch Rapp.

"I like you in this position, all splayed out beneath me like a piece of fucking artwork." The words all came out in an embarrassed rush, heat rising to her cheeks, giving her feelings away.

Mitch reached one hand up to brush some stray hair away from her face, "You tend to curse when you get flustered, you'd never last a minute in an interrogation."

"Then don't ever let me be kidnapped, Mitch," she playfully swatted his hand from her face.

He gave her a lopsided smirk, before surging upwards to capture her lips in a surprisingly soft kiss. She sighed lightly into the press of his mouth and brought her hands up to gently run through his jet black hair. Using that as leverage, she tugged his head back and slanted her mouth across his, deepening the kiss and pressing her smooth body against the hard edges of his. Mitch had this incredible way drawing her into his corner, of never pushing or expecting or making her feel obligated, he just offered up what he could and accepted whatever she was willing to give in return. He was honest and open whenever they came together, and didn't hold back anything, and that was more than she could even expect.

Just as he was allowing her to press him down into the mattress, a phone started ringing from somewhere on the floor, "Ahhh fuck, is that your's or mine?" Mitch rolled her over, trapping her beneath the sharp cut of his pelvis and the biceps she loved so much. He lowered his forehead to hers, his lips millimeters away, and their breath mingling.

"It's mine, but I'm really debating on ignoring it…" His voice was low, punctuated by the press of his growing erection against her thigh.

Right on cue, her ringtone joined Mitch's buzzing, and the mood was lost as soon as it began. Mitch sighed loudly and rolled off of the bed to retrieve the phones. He stared intently at the blue light of the screen for a few seconds before frowning.

"Change of plans it seems, the Senator was just discovered dead in his residence."

*To be continued*


	2. Chapter 2

It was remarkably hard to tail Mitch Rapp from a distance, he had this uncanny ability to avoid facing all security cameras directly, and he could blend so perfectly into any crowd he walked through. She swore the only reason she could manage to keep any tabs on him was because he knew that Scott's team was helping her trail him. Just as the thought passed her mind, Mitch disappeared into a loose gathering of people waiting to cross the street. She gave it a few moments pause, to see if the head of moppy black hair would pop back, or if she needed to check in with Marcus on the security camera front.

"God dammit Mitch," she slowly scanned the crowd as she casually dropped down to tie her shoe, "Give me something to go on."

From the lower vantage point she spotted firm legs encased in faded jeans and the dark brown combat boots that Mitch preferred. Surging up and ahead she followed them around the block corner, only to promptly lose him again.

"Alright Marcus, what do you have for me," she leaned against the brick front building and pulled a water bottle out of the small backpack she carried.

"Unfortunately nothing," the voice crackled through her ear piece, "he turns around the block and we don't have security camera footage in that section, cheap ass city."

She sighed and put the water bottle away, might as well keep going this direction, Mitch really only had three options at this point. He could continue down the sidewalk at a good clip in order to put distance between them, sprint across the busy street in an attempt to throw her off, or he could enter into one of the shop fronts. Running down the street would be suspicious to anyone paying attention, this was an ambling-along, touristy type of city and not many people would be likely to run down the streets. Crossing the busy road would be a smart tactic, but again, in this city local drivers and taxis hated it when tourists and pedestrians jay-walked, so she probably would have heard car horns blaring. The third option was looking more promising, it would have been quick and easy to skulk into a shop front, but that meant that she had to decide which one. She could just go in one after the other, but the likelihood that Mitch would exit out the back of one of the shops was high, which meant she needed to decide quickly.

"Fucking hell Mitch," she blew out a hard breath, "Marcus, how quickly can you access security camera footage from the shops on this street? Just the first three, the rest of them are too far down the street to casually slip into without alerting suspicion."

"Give me a minute," she could hear the faint clicking of keys on his keyboard, "I can probably access all of them, but if you're short on time then I can tell you he did not enter the first shop."

"Excellent, thanks Marcus."

That left her with two options, the Floral Shop with the gaudy pink door or the clothing boutique that specialized in "outerwear for the outer edge", whatever that meant. She could come up with a million psycho-analytical reasons as to why he would or would not choose each shop, but in the end she just went with her gut feeling and opened the pink door. A bell chimed overhead as she stepped into the air-conditioned foyer and was greeted by the absurd fragrance of a hundred or more bouquets on display. She scanned the shop quickly, noting the front counter where orders could be placed, and the small area to the left that was probably a breakfast nook at one point. This area contained a few sample bouquets and a booklet to leaf through. The back half of the shop contained more sample bouquets and a wall full of flower selections for a "build your own bouquet". It was here that she spotted the absurdly out of place Mitch Rapp.

"Welcome to Diddly's," the overly cheerful receptionist chimed, "How can I help you today?"

"I'd like to build my own" she started moving to the rear of the building, not caring what the response was.

Mitch stiffened as she approached, debating on whether he should run or not, if she had to guess. She hoped to god he wouldn't, she was here to help him, but she could only do that if he let her.

"_We need to leave now." Mitch was already in motion, hastily shoving clothes into bags, packing up his weapons, and holstering his Glock. _

_She was up now too, shoving on a sweatshirt and some yoga pants, "Why exactly do we need to leave? Isn't this the outcome we wanted anyway?"_

_Mitch gave her a dry look and kept bustling around the tiny room. He was in operational shut down mode, but she couldn't figure out why. Obviously the assassination of a U.S. Senator was risky business, but in the end he didn't have to raise a finger against the man, so why was he packing up so speedily?_

_His phone rang for the second time that night, except this time Mitch picked up on the first ring, "Yea… okay, thanks."_

_His face was blank as he walked over to her, not giving anything away. She felt a little flutter in her stomach as he approached, none of this felt good. He had assured her that this would be a quick job and she would only have a small part in it, nothing that she could be held accountable for. Now however, Mitch was worried, he only ever guarded his expressions this much when things went terribly wrong and he was worried about the people on his team. _

"_We've been framed in the murder of the Senator, I don't know how anyone knew that I was leading Scott's team into this situation, but they got to the Senator before us and planted evidence to point the local police in our direction," he paused to let that sink in and then continued, "I know this is the outcome that we wanted, but had we actually taken the Senator out it would have looked like natural causes and no evidence would have been left behind to lead the police to our involvement… or yours."_

_The last statement sealed her fate. If the police knew of her involvement in the scheme, even through planted evidence, then her career was ruined and she'd be hauled off to jail for the rest of her life. Who knows what would happen to Mitch and Scott's team, probably the death sentence if anyone in Washington had a say. _

"_Listen, and listen closely, we don't have much time," Mitch gently grabbed her shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into them, "You and Scott's team have an alibi, there is video evidence of each of you in various bars until well past 2 a.m. this morning. Marcus was able to doctor some security footage to provide that, and Maslick confirmed with the local ME that time of death was 11 p.m." _

"_But where does that leave you?!" The question flew past her lips before she could stop it. _

_Mitch gripped her shoulders a little firmer, "My DNA is all over the place, from preliminary reports, I don't know how they managed it, but there's no way for me out of this right now. If Marcus was to place me in a bar, then all of your alibis would start to look suspicious. Better for me to assume guilt for now, then to jeopardize the rest of the team." _

"_That's bullshit Mitch, you know anyone of us would defend you!" Frustrating tears were starting to form at the back of her eyes, the disparity of the situation getting to her. _

"_It doesn't matter, what's done is done, now we need to control fallout," he spun her around and started ushering her towards the bed, "pretend like you know nothing if anyone comes here, but first call Kennedy from the burner and give her an update."_

_Before he could shove her down and leave without a trace, she spun and lunged herself up into his arms. Mitch caught her easily, wrapping his arms around her and letting her feel his regret for the way their morning was ending. Not one to waste words, she crushed her mouth against his, savoring the feel of his soft lips against hers. He opened for her, sliding his tongue along her upper teeth, guiding her into a deeper connection. She complied immediately, sucking gently on his tongue, and nipping lightly at his lower lip. _

_A groan slipped past his lips as he pulled back and set her feet on the floor, "I need to leave, and you need to pretend like none of this ever happened." _

_So with one last, soft press of his lips to hers, he disappeared out her front door. _

"Mitch, please don't run, just give me five minutes to catch you up."

"I was hoping you would choose the pink door," his voice held an edge of humor.

He turned around with a small bouquet in his hand, some yellow and white flowers mixed in a haphazard way, she couldn't even tell you what the flowers were. Accepting the bouquet, she took a good look at him, his hair was a mess and he had let his beard grow out to an almost homeless state. His eyes looked tired, and he had more gray coming in around his temples than she remembered. Using the bouquet as a plausible excuse for her wave of emotion, she closed the distance between them and threw an arm around his neck. His arms encircled her fiercely, crushing her against his still solid upper body. Whether he was playing along or actually felt the same way as she did, she couldn't tell, nor did she care. Mitch was here, she finally found him, and she was finally _touching_ him. If you had told her that six months ago she'd fall madly in love with a man after one night together, she would have called bullshit, but now she wanted nothing more than another night (or day, or hour, or minute) in his embrace. It was the only reason that she forced her way onto Scott's team to track Mitch down and help clear his name. Possibly, Mitch wanted nothing to do with her beyond that one night, but she also believed that he did more good in the world than she had knowledge of, and it wouldn't be right to just feed him to the wolves. Therefore she gave up her entire career, and life, to exonerate him from this crime.

"There's no time right now," he whispered in her ear, "meet me in Room 146 at the Paradise Motel in one hour, and you can give me all the details."

With that statement, Mitch pulled back and gave her a chaste kiss, placed something in her hand and blew past her out the front door of the shop.

***To Be Continued***


End file.
